Читать книгу Sea Glass Island - Sherryl Woods, Sherryl Woods - Страница 11

5

“Would you get a move on?” Boone called out as he paced Ethan’s living room. “We’re going to be late. If we are, Emily will have a cow.”

“You could go on without me,” Ethan called back. “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself over to Cora Jane’s.”

“But the question is, will you?” Boone replied. “I’ve been getting the distinct sense that you’re not exactly getting with the program. One of my assignments for tonight is to make sure you show up and play nice.”

Ethan walked out of his bedroom, a scowl firmly in place. “If, by that, you mean that I haven’t tumbled straight into bed with the maid of honor, then you’re right. I’m not getting with the program. Has it occurred to any of you that Samantha is no happier about this matchmaking scheme than I am? You’re humiliating her.”

For just an instant, Boone looked nonplused. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. My God, man, you’re all but offering her up like a sacrifice in some ancient ritual. I’m surprised she hasn’t packed her bags and flown back to New York.”

“She’d never do that to Emily,” Boone said, though he looked vaguely shaken by Ethan’s assessment. “At least I don’t think she would.”

“You said there was some sort of issue between the two of them. Can you see any possible way that this is helping, rather than making things worse? How would you feel if I kept pushing somebody on you after you’d declared you had no interest?”

Ethan realized he’d taken the debate one step too far when amusement sparkled in Boone’s eyes.

“You did your share of pushing when Emily and I were trying to put things back together and you thought we were getting offtrack.”

“Entirely different,” Ethan claimed. “You were meant to be together. That much was clear even to someone as antiromance as I am.”

“And you and Samantha aren’t meant to be?”

“We aren’t,” Ethan said adamantly. “As my friend, you certainly are well aware of my stance on relationships and love. I’m a nonbeliever.”

“You’re just scared,” Boone countered.

Ethan gave him a scowl that should have shaken him to his core.

Instead, Boone looked amused. “Okay, let’s say you’re not terrified of taking a risk. What makes you think you know what she’s thinking? Exactly how much time have you spent with her?”

“Come on, Boone. It’s plain as day. We couldn’t be any more different. She’s a glamorous actress living in New York. I’m a small-town, one-legged doctor,” he said with brutal honesty. “It just doesn’t compute.”

The expression in Boone’s eyes turned surprisingly angry. “If I ever hear you sell yourself short like that again, I swear I will knock you off that good leg of yours and pummel some sense into you.”

“Just being realistic,” Ethan said, though he was admittedly a little touched by Boone’s quick and vehement defense. For a guy who’d once looked up at Ethan as if he were some sort of hero, Boone didn’t seem the least bit shy about calling it as he saw it now. He was the kind of friend a man needed, even if Ethan wondered whether or not he deserved it.

“Nonsense,” Boone declared. “Give the woman a chance. That’s all any of us are asking. What’s the worst-case scenario? You’ll have spent a couple of weeks in the company of a very sexy woman. No harm, no foul.”

Since a similar thought had crossed Ethan’s mind, he could hardly muster a believable argument against the casual interlude Boone was describing. It just felt wrong, though. Someone was bound to get hurt. No matter how innocently things started, in his experience someone always got hurt.

“And if one of us winds up getting hurt?” he asked Boone. “Are you going to carve out my heart if it’s Samantha who gets burned?”

“I’m pretty sure Samantha can take care of herself.” Boone leveled a curious look at him. “Are you thinking that could happen to you, though? Are you more attracted to Samantha than I realized?”

“Absolutely not,” Ethan said, probably a little too forcefully. “I’m just saying it could happen to either one of us. Do you and Emily and Cora Jane and whoever else is involved in this romantic conspiracy want to take responsibility for that? Because if you push and things blow up, that’s on you, too.”

“I think we’re all looking at the upside,” Boone said. “We’re very big on happy endings these days.”

Ethan shook his head. “Yeah, you would be, but not all of us are that lucky, pal. I speak from experience. Maybe you should leave this alone and stop tampering with fate.”

Just then B.J., Boone’s son, walked inside, a scowl on his face. “Are you guys ever coming? Emily just called your cell phone, Dad. I think she’s getting ticked off because we’re not there.”

Ethan grinned at the sudden panic on the groom’s face. “And maybe that’s the relationship you should be focusing on,” he advised his friend. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“Okay, yeah. I get it,” Boone said.

But even though his words sounded sincere enough, Ethan had a hunch the meddling was far from over.

* * *

Samantha was very much aware of Ethan standing across the lawn all alone, a can of soda in his hand. He looked as if he’d rather be just about any place other than a bridal shower overrun by eager matchmakers. She could relate. Since she was probably the only one there who could, she crossed the yard to join him, taking two fresh glasses of champagne with her.

“You look as if you’re in need of this,” she commented.

He lifted a brow. “I don’t think champagne is the answer.”

“Then what is?” she asked, downing the last of her own drink. She’d discovered that two glasses was just the right amount to create a happy little buzz. Three was apparently one too many, she concluded as she wobbled slightly.

He gave her a wry look. “Keeping my mind on full alert.”

“Ah, to avoid all the devious scheming going on around here tonight,” she concluded.

“Exactly.”

“Want to go for a walk, instead? I think I might be the tiniest bit tipsy. A walk would be good.”

“It will also lend fodder to the family gossip mill,” he suggested.

She airily waved off the warning. “Oh, so what? We’re tougher than that.”

He smiled. “If you say so.”

They’d walked down the driveway and started around the block when she paused and twirled around. It made her head spin, which was unfortunate, but she managed to stay upright with Ethan’s steady hand on her elbow.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly. “Any particular reason you decided to do that twirl?”

“I was showing off my dress. Do you like it? Grandmother thought you might.”

She watched as Ethan’s gaze dipped to the cleavage displayed by the dress’s neckline. There was no mistaking the heated reaction as his gaze lingered. She giggled.

“She was right. You do like it, don’t you? Especially the neckline. I’ve absolutely got to give that woman more credit. She is very, very wise. And sneaky.” She bobbed her head. “Yep, she is definitely sneaky.”

Ethan sighed. “Exactly how tipsy are you, Samantha?”

“Not tipsy,” she insisted. “That’s not possible. I can hold my liquor. I’ve only had three, or maybe four, glasses of champagne.” She glanced at the empty glass in her hand. “Could be five. I just finished the one I brought for you.”

“Have you eaten today?”

She thought about it. She couldn’t recall having anything since the bowl of cereal and yogurt she’d had for breakfast. “Not so much.”

“Then let’s get you back to the party and get some food into you.”

“More champagne would be lovely,” she told him.

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” she said compliantly, clearly startling him. Surprising him felt good. She couldn’t help wondering what he thought of her, especially after all the interfering attempts to push them together. “Am I pitiful, Ethan?”

He stared at her with a shocked expression. “Absolutely not. Why would you ask something like that?”

“Because no one in my family seems to think I can find a man on my own.”

“Then that would have to make me pitiful, too, since I’m the one they’ve targeted for you. Do you think I’m pitiful?”

She shook her head so hard it took another unfortunate spin. “You’ve very, very brave and sexy.” She smiled at him. “I always thought so, you know. Still do.”

Something in his expression seemed to soften at her words. “That’s nice,” he said. “But I’m not going to hold you accountable for anything you might say tonight. You’re a little looped.”

“Not looped,” she told him. “Just unin— What’s that word? Uninhibited, that’s it. I’m uninhibited.” She wobbled a little. “It’s kinda nice.”

“And dangerous,” Ethan muttered under his breath.

“Dangerous,” Samantha echoed, pleased. “I like that. Don’t you?”

“Not so much,” he said. “The truth is, you scare me to death.”

“How come?” she asked, honestly wanting to know how she could possibly scare a man who’d been through everything Ethan had been through. Scary and dangerous sounded much better than pitiful.

“Maybe it’s better if I don’t tell you that,” he said. “It could come back to bite me in the butt.”

“How?”

“Women have been known to take advantage of a man’s vulnerabilities,” he said.

“And you’re vulnerable to me?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, it seems I am.”

She beamed at him. “That’s nice,” she said. “I’m glad you like me, Ethan, ’cause I really, really like you. Always have.” Even as she spoke, she sank down on the grass right where she’d been standing. “I think I’ll sleep now.”

Ethan stood there for a heartbeat, his amusement unmistakable. But then she felt herself being scooped into his arms and carried somewhere. To his bed would be nice, she thought before falling soundly asleep.

* * *

“How’s your head?” Gabi inquired even as she handed over a glass of water and a couple of aspirins to Samantha.

The sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window made her head pound. “That depends. Am I dead?”

“No, I’m pretty sure you just wish you were,” her sister said, amusement threading through her voice. “Just how much did you drink last night?”

“No idea,” Samantha admitted. “How big a fool did I make of myself?”

“You’ll have to ask Ethan that. He was with you when you crashed.”

Samantha buried her face in her hands. “Oh, sweet heaven! He must think I’m awful.”

“I’m not sure what he thinks, but I don’t think awful is on the list. He looked smitten and unhappy as hell about it, to be honest.”

Samantha looked down and realized she was once again wearing his football jersey. “Please tell me he did not put this on me.”

“Nope. I did that with a little help from Emily. You were pretty much deadweight by then. And Ethan was looking a little shell-shocked. What on earth did you say to him before you crashed?”

Samantha racked her brain, but nothing specific came to mind. Surely she hadn’t said anything about how desperately she’d been hoping he’d take her to bed. Sweet heaven, what if she had?

“Oh God,” she murmured, holding her head.

“What?” Gabi demanded. “Have you remembered something?”

“Not exactly. I just remember thinking it would be really nice if he carried me off to his bed, but I don’t think I actually said that.”

A grin spread across Gabi’s face. “But you’re not sure?”

“Afraid not. The man is going to think I’m a stalker, isn’t he? He’s going to forget all about the meddlers—Emily, Boone, Grandmother—and conclude that I’m behind everything they’re doing.”

“So what if he does? Liking the man and letting him know it is not so terrible.”

“You don’t think it’s just a little bit pathetic?”

Gabi gave her an impatient look. “Let’s think about this for a minute. You’re gorgeous. You have a successful career as an actress and model. You’re smart. I’m not seeing the downside of this for Ethan.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Samantha replied. “He’s made that abundantly clear. Chasing after him anyway just makes me look desperate.” She gave Gabi a plaintive look. “I don’t want him to see me as desperate. Can you think of any man on earth who wouldn’t be completely turned off by that?”

“And you don’t want Ethan to be turned off?” Gabi said, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Of course not,” Samantha said before she considered the implication.

“So Grandmother and Emily have been right from the beginning,” she concluded. “This old crush of yours hasn’t faded away.”

Samantha frowned. “What’s your point?”

“That you, my dear, hungover sister, are in a heap of trouble. Those two will never let up now.”

“And you?” Samantha asked warily, hoping for one person who’d back her up.

“I’m on your side,” Gabi confirmed, then blew it by adding, “Which puts me on their side, too.”

“Traitor,” Samantha accused. “Couldn’t you at least be neutral, like Switzerland?”

“Were you neutral when they were pushing me and Wade together? No, you were not.”

“So this is payback,” Samantha concluded.

“It is, but only in the most loving, sisterly way.”

Samantha frowned at Gabi’s overly upbeat mood. “Bite me,” she muttered.

Gabi merely chuckled. “By the way, you might want to hop in the shower and pull yourself together. Rumor has it that Ethan is due here in about twenty minutes to give you a lift over to Castle’s. Believe me, I know how much pride you have. You definitely don’t want him to catch you looking like this.”

“Why is Ethan coming by when you’re right here?”

Gabi regarded her innocently. “Do you even have to ask?”

“You could tell him to go away.”

“I could, but I won’t be here. My assigned duties are done and I’m off to work.” She pressed a kiss to Samantha’s forehead. “Love you. We all do. Try to remember that,” she added as she left.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Samantha muttered in her wake, regretting that she couldn’t crawl beneath the covers and spend the day right where she was. Of course that would risk Ethan coming upstairs in search of her. She couldn’t allow him to find the disheveled mess she most likely was.

And that, she assured herself as she showered and washed her hair, was the only reason she wasn’t going to defy everyone’s latest attempts at meddling. Pride. Whatever impression she’d left in his head last night, she needed to imprint a totally different one today. Breezy, independent and not the least bit love-struck came to mind. Pulling off that performance was going to test her acting skills in ways no other role ever had.

* * *

Ethan still regretted answering his cell phone when it had rung at dawn. If he’d ignored it, he wouldn’t be at Cora Jane’s right now with two giant-size containers of steaming coffee, fresh blueberry muffins and a boatload of anxiety.

“Samantha’s worried she made a fool of herself last night,” Emily had told him. “You need to let her know she didn’t. Otherwise, things could be really awkward between now and the wedding.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Ethan countered.

“I’m just trying to make sure everything goes smoothly,” she’d insisted in her most innocent tone. “I can’t have the two key players in the wedding party not even able to look each other in the eye. Please, Ethan. I know I got things off to a bad start between you two with my meddling. Once you’ve settled things, I’ll stay out of it. I promise.”

“You are genetically incapable of staying out of it,” Ethan had responded.

“I’ll try. Really,” she insisted. “Please do this for me.”

Ethan knew he’d experienced a moment of temporary insanity when he’d agreed, but the truth was he wanted to see for himself if Samantha was okay after the way she’d practically crashed at his feet the night before. He wondered if she remembered what he’d said or, more importantly, what she’d said in response, that she was glad he liked her. That spontaneous exchange could be the spark that set off unwanted fireworks down the road, if they weren’t very, very careful. Delivering coffee and muffins was not being careful.

Remembering the last time he’d arrived without notice, he knocked on the kitchen door at Cora Jane’s. When no one answered, he knocked a little harder, but still got no response.

“Blast it,” he muttered, wondering if this was part of the plot. Was he supposed to panic, go running upstairs, find her asleep in her bed, then jump in with her? He wouldn’t put it past Emily to devise just such a scheme.

He opened the back door, then shouted, “Samantha! You awake?”

Only then did he hear the sound of the shower cutting off. It immediately sent his imagination into overdrive. All that slick bare skin, those long legs, the mane of thick hair clinging damply to her shoulders. He swallowed hard against the tide of pure lust that swept over him.

“Not doing this,” he muttered, dismissing the desire to take the stairs two at a time. “No way.”

He plunked himself down in a kitchen chair, opened one of the containers of coffee and took a drink, scorching his throat in the process. At least that got his mind off the naked woman upstairs. Or it should have.

“Ethan? You down there?”

“I’m here,” he hollered back, his voice choked. “There’s coffee.”

“Oh, you wonderful man!” she called back with heartfelt emotion. “Could you bring it up?”

“Upstairs? You want me to bring the coffee to you?” he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Had she joined the plot?

She laughed as if she’d read his mind. “I promise you that you’ll be safe. I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t in desperate need of caffeine.”

He picked up the coffee and headed for the stairs. “Are you decent?”

“I can see why you’d ask,” she teased. “And I suppose it’s a matter of opinion, but I am clothed if that’s what you really want to know.”

Was that the real question? he wondered. He’d kind of liked imagining her without a stitch on. Still, this was better, he assured himself as he hit the top step.

She was waiting for him halfway down the hall, wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Her feet were bare, her wet hair just starting to curl waywardly. She looked more intoxicating than the champagne she’d been drinking the night before.

“See, perfectly decent,” she said, grinning.

“Too bad,” he murmured before he could stop himself.

She blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said hurriedly. “Here’s your coffee. There’s a blueberry muffin in the bag.” He held them out, keeping a safe distance between them. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

“It’s okay if you want to stay. I just need to dry my hair. I’m used to having men coming in and out while I get ready.”

Instantly he experienced a surge of jealousy like nothing he’d ever felt before. “Is that so? Just how casually do you take relationships?”

“We’re not talking relationships,” she said, her amusement plain. “Dressing rooms can be crowded on soaps, especially for day players who only come in to work occasionally. And backstage in the theater, people are changing everywhere you look. Modesty pretty much disappears in a hurry.”

The thought of men catching a glimpse of her half-dressed, no matter the circumstances, set his teeth on edge.

“I think I’ll wait downstairs just the same,” he said.

“Sure. Whatever makes you comfortable,” she said agreeably.

Nothing about this situation was comfortable, he thought irritably as he went back to the kitchen and finished his coffee. Heck, he saw half-naked women all the time in his line of work. That was different, too. They were patients, and he’d trained himself to be clinical and objective when treating them.

Samantha was different. She wasn’t a patient. She wasn’t even a friend, despite their determination to pretend they could pull that off. She was a potential lover. He knew it. So did she. And that turned casual glimpses of bare skin and intimate little moments into something dangerous. It hadn’t sounded to him as if she recognized that.

Was that because she didn’t feel the sizzling chemistry the way he did? Or was she only trying to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist?

He’d known what to do with all the meddling. It had been annoying, but too blatant to take seriously.

He’d even been able to dismiss the hints that Samantha had held a long-ago crush on him. Time faded that sort of thing, especially when they had never exchanged more than a word or two back then.

But this new twist, this need that was growing inside him? That had the potential to rip him apart.

In Afghanistan, it hadn’t been possible to hide from the dangers. They were all around and part of the job. This danger was something else, something he could avoid.

And somehow he had to find a way to ignore his suddenly raging hormones and do just that.